


Overboard

by Mithen



Category: Aubrey-Maturin Series - Patrick O'Brian, Master and Commander - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Danger, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-24
Updated: 2012-09-24
Packaged: 2017-11-14 23:14:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/pseuds/Mithen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Stephen falls overboard and Jack dives in to save him, the two find themselves alone on the open sea. Filling in Stephen's POV during a scene in <i>The Far Side of the World</i>, but no particular spoilers beyond the situation in general.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overboard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [riverlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverlight/gifts).



The ocean was more than vast enough at the best of times, in Stephen Maturin's opinion, with nothing but a fragile wooden shell and a handful of men adrift on its immensity.

Take away the ship and all but two of the men, and the ocean became nearly infinite.

Beside him, the only landmark in an endless plain of black water, bobbed Jack Aubrey's yellow head. He was turned away, but Stephen knew his eyes were scanning the darkness for the hint of a lantern or a sail, any sign at all of the _Surprise_. From what he knew of Jack, his friend was probably calculating currents and wind, estimating the time and the chance of their being discovered. Stephen was glad he had something to keep his mind busy; as for himself he had nothing to ponder but his immense blunder and the likelihood that they were both going to perish here because of it. Over and over again the scene replayed itself in his mind: the instant when his legs slipped out from under him, the shock of impact with the water, the inexpressible relief at hearing Jack dive in to fish him out that turned slowly to numbed horror as the ship sailed on without them.

The mist had cleared away and the sky above was spangled with an impossible number of stars. Beneath him was the incomprehensible depth of the Pacific. Immensity above and immensity below, and he was a mere chip of flotsam, a tiny speck of insignificant matter. When he slipped below the surface, the sea would swallow him whole without a murmur or a sign.

"Here now, Stephen, this won't do," said Jack's voice near his ear. A large hand clasped his shoulder, and Stephen realized he was trembling. "Let me carry you a while more."

Stephen let his arms be guided around Jack's neck once more until he was clinging to Jack's broad back. He rested his cheek on the sodden cloth and let the shudders chase themselves through his body like unruly surf until Jack's animal warmth countered some of the chill. It was comforting--odd how comforting--to not be alone, he thought vaguely, and let himself doze for a little while against Jack's strength.

He jerked awake again with a gasp as something brushed against their legs. Everything he knew of the sharks of the Pacific flashed through his mind in an instant as Jack made a hissing sound of alarm. But the contact wasn't repeated, and after a while he felt Jack's arms relax. "Lots of fish in these waters," Jack said reassuringly, his voice hoarse from hailing the lost _Surprise._ "No need to worry."

But the interruption had set Stephen's mind racing again, the brief rush of fear turning to something close to anger. Why had Jack jumped in after him, the great idiot? Now they would both be lost, and it would be entirely Stephen's fault. He was not used to being the cause of risk to Jack's life--certainly he had often held his life in his hands, but the power to save it had always been at his fingertips. Now his error and Jack's foolish gallantry may have doomed his friend. 

The thought was intolerable.

The sea was easy, the swells slow and regular, but eventually exhaustion would overcome him and he would sink. Jack would try to keep him afloat, but the extra effort would surely shorten his own life. 

In fact, without Stephen to support (and, of course, with his additional fat to add buoyancy) Jack stood a much better chance of surviving until some kind of rescue.

"I do believe I can manage on my own for a bit," Stephen said, loosening his arms from around Jack's neck.

"Hm? Ah, yes," said Jack, his eyes still abstracted.

Stephen rolled onto his back, staring up at the stars, listening to the water that washed over his ears, the deep empty howl of it. Death by drowning was said to be one of the more peaceful ways to die, but he had seen too many victims of it to be fully confident of the platitude. It was difficult--fiendishly difficult--to simply sink into the depths; the air in the human body tended to compel it to float despite itself. Rather like the human spirit, he pondered, looking up at the black distance, the sheer animal need to survive that so often staved off even the most devoutly desired self-destruction. If one were to empty one's lungs as fully as possible, would it be feasible to slip under water without a struggle? One would need to inhale water quickly and without hesitation, letting the blackness swallow him as swiftly as possible...

His mind wandered on various paths, contemplating the twinned buoyancy of the human body and will, considering the man next to him, his eyes scanning the dark horizon for any light. Straightening in the water, he took a deep breath, prepared to exhale--

"I say, Stephen." Jack's voice was a dark rumble near him; his arms slipped under Stephen's again, lifting him up. "You've been swimming a long time. Put your arms around me again and we shall float together." 

A long silence, in which Stephen heard his own breaths, too hard and hoarse. His arms were trembling again.

"Anyway," murmured Jack, his voice barely audible over the soft long swell of the sea. "Whatever we do, we shall do together. Eh, Stephen?"

His voice was calm and conversational, but there was an edge under it that demanded response. After a moment, Stephen nodded, feeling his cheek scrape on wet cloth.

Jack reached up and clasped his cold hand. "Good," he said. "That's good."

Days later, in a warm cabin filled with the smell of toasting cheese, Stephen would remember the cold of the sea, the muscles of Jack's back like cords of a lifeline. He would remember wondering: if they were to sink together into the depths, would they stay together, two pale skeletons drifting with the tides, their very bones entangled forever?

At that moment, with the two of them alone under the infinite stars, it seemed not the worst fate in the world.


End file.
